


Philosophy is Bad

by Dabethan



Series: Dirk and Kankri content for me and you [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, Misunderstandings, University, discussion of age gaps but like briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25163125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dabethan/pseuds/Dabethan
Summary: Dirk's been watching Kankri debate their classmates for 3 months, and then decides to actually say something to him finallyContent warnings in the beginning author's notes
Relationships: Dirk Strider & Kankri Vantas, Dirk Strider/Kankri Vantas
Series: Dirk and Kankri content for me and you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829449
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	Philosophy is Bad

**Author's Note:**

> Today's CONTENT WARNINGS:
> 
> Assuming a hookup is going to happen and then you quickly realize it isn't and you misunderstood entirely
> 
> Kankri being really weird about age gaps like the entire time despite that it would have been less awkward if he hadn't brought it up and didn't keep bringing it up
> 
> Age gap (3 years lol)
> 
> I also didn't beta this and I proofread it like once at 3am have fun with that

"Philosophy is bad."

Sweater boy turns to look at you, jumping slightly when he realizes how close you've scooted your chair towards him.

"What?" He asks, which you suppose is a pretty reasonable response to your statement.

You're on break for fifteen minutes, most of the class outside for a smoke or bathroom break. Your professor remains at the front of the room, fucking around on their phone, though they do glance your way with raised brows.

"Philosophy is bad," you repeat, "as a concept. It's bad."

Red Riding Sweater stares at you for a solid thirty seconds, in which you contemplate the likelyhood of his whole head just fucking exploding from having to hear your bad take, before he takes a breath and starts exactly what you were waiting for.

"Philosophy is a necessary part of human existence," he begins. "We wonder about existence and our place in the universe; to say it's bad wouldn't even be a sensical statement, since it's really a more neutral concept. Yes, some philosophical concepts could have a negative impact on others depending on its outreach and practical applications, but philosophy itself could be applied to nearly anything, so to say it's bad wouldn't be a particularly cohesive statement." He cocks his head and narrows his eyes at you. "Why are you informing me of your stance, anyway?"

"You're sitting next to me, and I'm being friendly." You take a swig of your Monster. "And because I think philosophy is bad."

"Philosophy isn't bad!" He finally turns his whole body to face you, irritation etched into his entire body language. "If you dislike it so much, why would you take this class?"

"I like philosophy," you answer truthfully. "I just think it's bad."

"Philosophy, by its design, can not be bad!" He's hissing now, his eyebrow twitching, and you want to grin so bad. You don't grin, and instead stare straight ahead, your hands folded in front of yourself.

"I think I am going to start class now, guys," your professor announces, as most of the class gets settled back in. Sweater boy shoots you a Look™, and you pretend you didn't see it.

You open your notebook back up, and immediately begin sketching a dick. The dick has a word balloon that says "philosophy is bad." Next to you, you hear a huff of air and a stifled groan. You're a genius.

He's waiting for you after class, as you expected.

It's almost the end of the school term, and this guy's been very...challenging. He really likes to talk, like to an obsessive degree, and he seems to get off on just lecturing everyone he meets (including your lecturer). You wonder how he's managed to live this long without being punched in the face.

You look at that face nearly nonstop for about 6 hours a week. You can tell it has never been punched in the near 20 something years he's been alive. 19? No, this is an upper division class, he would have to be older than 19 to be a senior.

"Hi," you say, stopping right in front of him, nearly touching you're so close. You're right in front of the elevators, and he nearly steps back into it which makes you almost feel bad for being such a dick about personal space (almost).

You're about the same height, though he would be taller than you if you weren't wearing such thick soles. You're a little annoyed at how unpimpled his skin is. He has a straight pointed nose, and a round and thin face. His hair is properly conditioned, and he smells like...vanilla? Shit, maybe you _should_ punch him in the face.

He sizes you up for a moment, worrying his lip, before speaking. "Could you step away from me? You're in my personal space, and I understand that you might have trouble with social boundaries and expectations on how to interact with other individuals but I personally find it helpful to stay about six feet away from others as that also helps keep the spread of disease."

"The spread of disease."

"Yes? Germs are disgusting. Would you please move?"

"Well," you give him a smirk. "How could I refuse such politeness."

He frowns, but doesn't move when you step exactly six feet away from him.

"I have a dorm room, if you would like to talk further about the quality of philosophy as a concept," he informs you, his arms crossed.

"Lead the way."

You follow him three blocks away, to a building fairly close to your own. You have friends who live here. He insists on keeping a distance from you, which you find amusing if anything.

His dorm is basically the same as yours. Small, and extremely orderly. No decorations save for a wall absolutely covered in pride flags. So, so many pride flags. You sit on his bed, noting that it's the only one in the room, and he busies himself with boiling water in a pot for some reason.

"Tea or coffee?" Oh.

"Coffee," you inform him, suddenly wondering if you've misread this situation. "Is it ok if I sit here?"

"Where?" He turns around to look at you. "Oh, the bed. If you would like, but it would be harder to hold your coffee since it will be hot and the desk is farther away. I still need to get a bedside, my apologies for the inconvenience."

You have greatly misread this situation.

"So…" you swallow, uncomfortably. "So, to be clear, you actually invited me here to talk about whether or not philosophy is bad."

He pauses his pouring of coffee grounds to stare at you unblinkingly. "Yes? Did you think we were going to do something else?"

A minute passes, the both of you watching each other, before his eyes grow wide. "You thought... His eyes narrow much further than they had before. "You thought 'philosophy is bad' was a pick-up line?"

"I thought 'I have a dorm room if you would like to talk further about the quality of philosophy as a concept' was a pick-up line," you inform him as monotone as you can, aware that your face is reddening without your permission. "Who actually wants to talk about philosophy at 9 pm on a Wednesday? After a three hour lecture class about it?"

He huffs, for some reason still making your coffee (though you still haven't moved from where you're sitting, instead clutching his plain white bedspread and folding in on yourself stiffly). "I told you exactly what I intended to do once we got here! Who would go to someone's dorm room late at night to fornificate with them on a weekday without even knowing their name?"

"Late at night," you repeat weakly, and you see him roll his eyes in side profile. "Shit, you don't know my name either. Why'd you invite me in?"

He finally walks over and hands you your coffee, before sitting at his own desk a few feets away. You take the drink, holding it gingerly while it warms your hands.

He watches you, face surprisingly impassive. You drink your gross caffeinated sludge, making eye contact through your shades.

"How old are you?" He asks finally, his head tilted and his hands clasped around his knee.

"Twenty-three."

His eyebrows shoot up, and you desperately attempt to keep yourself from fidgeting.

It doesn't work, and you tap on the outside of your mug.

"Well... that's not...do you normally like older men?"

"Older men??" You nearly laugh, but stop yourself. "I've been able to drink for two years, and you're what, a few years older than me? That's fucking nothing. Jesus. You look like you're younger than me, for fucks sake." You relax your shoulders and take another drink, mumbling into your cup. "I thought you wanted to talk about philosophy, not my fuckin' dating preferences."

He nods, absently. "My apologies. I'm just very concerned about power imbalances, is all. What's your name?"

"Dirk Strider. Should I leave?"

"Hm. No? You are of course welcome to do so at any time. I am just curious and would like to ask you questions."

You consider this. "Only if I also get to ask questions."

"That's fine." The elder in the room moves to the other end of the bed, assuming a much more relaxed posture while keeping his distance from you. "Why do you think philosophy is bad?"

You nearly snap your mug in half, closing your eyes for a moment while your mind sounds a dial tone. "Philosophy isn't bad, dude, I said that to get your attention. And it worked, seeing as how you jumped on it like it's a just delivered pizza and you're a hungry teen superhero who can't legally say the word 'Batman'."

"Oh." He looks significantly put out. "Why get my attention then? I know I have an unusual appearance, but I don't take kindly to fetishism."

"Fetishism- you're a weird dude."

"Weird?" He glares at you.

"Yeah, like, you talk a lot, but you clearly believe really heavily in what you say. You challenge people constantly, like to be challenged, and are openly disappointed when people won't debate you. You're like, weirdly passive-aggressive." You rub your eyes underneath your shades. "You never swear, and you say things very directly. You tend to take things literally, including my own statement that 'philosophy is bad,' which you continued to take seriously like up until a few moments ago despite it really obviously being a joke. You're weird, and this all kind of reminds me of me?"

You sit in quiet for a little while, finishing your coffee. He looks tired, haggard, and it occurs to you that you never actually got his age, nor did he mention his name.

In retrospect, maybe he was right on the one night stand shortcomings. You're gonna get murdered one day.

"Why do you wear sunglasses at night," he asks you finally, and you almost burst out laughing.

"They look really cool. Is that all? You satisfied now?"

He shrugs, but cracks a small smile. "Anything you want to ask me?"

"Why haven't you kicked me out?" You ask honestly. "It's actually getting a little late and I'm pretty fuckin' sure you don't want to fuck me."

"Maybe I think you're weird too. Maybe I think you're interesting." He tilts his head to the side, and you're struck by how soft he looks here, in this shitty dorm lighting. "Maybe you remind me of myself, as well." 

He made you coffee.

"How old are you?" You suddenly ask, the way he's looking at you making you feel flustered. "And your name? What's your major, anyway? I'm in engineering, but my minor is philosophy. I work as a mechanic right now."

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm Kankri. Kankri Vantas." He looks genuinely apologetic, and sits up a little straighter. "I actually majored in social science. Started with psychology and communication."

"So is this like an elective? Or a minor or something."

"...I'm in graduate school. Double major in philosophy and education. I am considering becoming a social worker."

"Graduate school." It sounds surprisingly far away, even though you graduate in only a few terms.

"I'm twenty-six," he confesses, and you actually do laugh.

"Twenty-six. I thought you were fucking thirty-five or something." You grin at his clear embarrassment. "'Older men,' Jesus Christ we have a three year age gap you fucking nerd."

"Age gaps are very concerning," he insists, "while age does not necessarily mark maturity, the perverse obsession our culture has with a hierarchy of age creates an imbalance of power, and a normalized one at that!"

"I didn't even know you were older than me, I thought you were like twenty or somethin'. Fuckin' baby face over here."

Kankri immediately turns deep red. "I am not an infant!"

"You sure look like one," you grin, leaning closer towards him. He in turn glares.

"I am not going to entertain this topic, and will instead tactfully change the subject. Would you like more coffee?"

"Yes," you reply, then ask "did you just say you are going to 'tactfully change the subject' out loud?"

"So what if I did?" Kankri rises from the bed, and you take off your jacket, tossing it onto his desk chair. He doesn't turn around, and thus can't see your ridiculous black mess shirt that shows off your incredible physique.

"I'm just saying, that's kind of cringe bro."

"Cringe culture is ableist," he replies, and you laugh.

"I'm being serious-" he pauses upon seeing the state of your torso.

You slowly pull down your shades, and give him a wink.

He narrows his eyes, and slowly turns on his water to boil.

"You're right," he says, "I do like to be challenged."

**Author's Note:**

> The last chapter of An Interest In Love is stiiiiiiill in beta. If you are interested in helping beta it (or the next Dabethan fic, since that's almost done) you can drop me a line at @/phd_in_nakk on twitter, or in the Dabethan discord.
> 
> Also, there is a Dabethan discord. You're welcome to come say hi!
> 
> https://discord.gg/NJStDHt


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